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I adjust my tie and then put on the most expensive jacket that I brought with me. My face is clean-shaven, and I spent time getting a haircut this afternoon to look my absolute best for tonight’s dinner. I know that she chose him, but I want her to regret not having one more time with me. And I want Gabe to feel the slightest bit intimidated by me.
I pull out my phone and find the address that Skye texted me for where we are having dinner together tonight, then enter it into my Uber app.
As much as I wanted to spend the entire day with Skye, I knew that it wouldn’t be a good decision. I’m not going to ruin her life by turning her into a cheater, and if I stayed a moment longer, that was exactly what would’ve happened. So, instead, I looked up a nearby hotel that had the nicest suite available, and I booked it. Not that Skye or Gabe will ever know where I’m staying tonight, but I’ll know, and my ego is far too sensitive to not stay somewhere nice. Just because I don’t typically spend this kind of money doesn’t mean that I can’t.
I walk out of one of the nicest hotels I’ve ever stayed in and over to the Uber that’s waiting for me. I try not to think about what Gabe will be driving him and Skye to dinner in. Some ridiculous car I’m sure.
What I should really be worried about is how to stop thinking about Skye. Because, tonight, after dinner, I have every intention of walking out of her life forever. It’s not that I care about her. I don’t. But, man, do I miss her sweet ass. I miss the way her body welcomes me in, like she’s been waiting for me forever. I hate how I miss the look in her eye and the sound she makes when she finally comes.
And I have to let go of the dream of ever getting to experience that again with her.
The Uber finally stops in front of the fancy seafood restaurant, and I climb out. I open the door to the restaurant that sits on a pier out over the water all by itself. The kind of restaurant that has white tablecloths at every table, at least three waitstaff per table, and nothing but the best wine on the menu.
“I’m here to meet Skye King and Gabe Cole,” I say to the hostess. Names that I figured out after a quick Google search.
She sweetly smiles at me. “Right this way, Mr. Jackson.”
My eyes widen a little when she says my name, but I suspect that Gabe also did the same search on me that I did on him. I follow the hostess throughout the whole restaurant to the far corner where Skye is sitting at a table in the corner, overlooking the water. She’s wearing a plain gray dress that fits her nicely but isn’t overly sexy. It’s nothing compared to the dress she wore on the beach the night of our first date. This dress screams business. It seems more appropriate in a boardroom instead of on a date with her fiancé and her ex-lover.
I take a seat at the table, opposite Skye, while her eyes are fixed on me.
“How was your afternoon without me?” I ask.
She cocks her head to the side and pulls her hands together on top of the table. “My afternoon was quite relaxing without you.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want you getting your feelings mixed up about missing me, not when you have a fiancé who keeps you so completely satisfied.”
She doesn’t flinch or even blink at my harsh words. “You forget I could never have feelings for a dick like you.”
“So, where is your fiancé, Gabe?” I ask, glancing around the room, assuming he went to the restroom or something.
Skye swallows hard and glances out the window. “He’s running late. He’ll be here soon.”
She doesn’t have to add to the end of her sentence because it’s clear all over her body that she is annoyed with him for being late.
“Can I get you two a drink or an appetizer to start?” the waiter asks.
I motion to Skye, and she answers, “We will have a bottle of your house red wine and the clams to start. Thanks.”
I grin as the waiter leaves to go get her bottle of wine.
“Why are you so happy all of a sudden?” she asks.
“No reason, I’m just surprised that you ordered wine. Wine means romance, and since it’s not clear if your beau is ever going to show up tonight, I’m shocked that you would be willing to share a bottle of wine with me. It must mean I did something right.”
The waiter returns, pouring us each a glass of wine before disappearing again.
“A lot can change in six months. I no longer think of wine as romantic,” she says, taking a sip of her wine.
“Some things never change.”
“So, when do I get to get rid of you?” she asks.
“I have a flight booked back home for tomorrow. So, as long as you still want me gone, you won’t have to see me ever again after tonight.”
“Prove it.” Her eyes light up with a sparkle and gleam as she teases me to prove myself just like I asked her to prove herself earlier.
I pull out my phone, finding my plane ticket and showing it to her. “See, I have a flight booked for tomorrow. I’m a man of my word. I’ll be on that flight as long as I don’t discover that you lied to me. Plus, I need to be getting back to work.”
